Ten feet tall and bullet proof.

For most of my life I have always felt that I lived a charmed existence.  I think that was mostly because that was instilled in me at birth by my mother.  I have never met a stranger, or at least never met one that stayed a stranger long.  For the most part the men in my life were sent to me for a reason.  My first husband was my first real love and my last husband my last real love.  My first husband gave me 5 kids and the last left me with Social Security that I could live on for the rest of my life.

My second husband taught me what pure evil was.  The third moved me to Colorado and made me an independent woman with a college degree.  He was also my fourth husband because ...well who knows what I was thinking on that one?  Number 5 did not last long, but he did teach me a lot about the Hispanic culture here in Pueblo.

And then came Kenny.  He was #6 and would prove to be my salvation.  He gave me permanence in the form of my own home.  He gave me stability with a steady pay check.  He took me camping and taught me to fish out of the back of the boat.  Most importantly, he let me bait my own hook and trusted me to dig worms for the trip!  Our life was not exciting, but it was what I needed to come full circle.  Now I am alone and an independent woman.  And that is where the ten feet tall and bullet proof comes into play.

If I decide I want to jump in my car and travel off to see my kids in western Kansas or eastern Kansas or my sister in Hutchinson, I do it.  If I take a notion to motor up to Colorado Springs and see Pastor Faye, I do it.  If I decide to stay in my pajamas until noon, I do that too.  Some times I have lunch with a friend, male or female and sometimes I eat cereal for supper.  I am sporadic on the house cleaning thing, but I try to keep my laundry done up.  And I manage to keep a cushion in the old bank account.

Sometimes I think it would be nice to have some one to call me and tell me good night or check on me occasionally, but that all comes with baggage. I have thought about getting one of those Alexa things and I think that might be the answer.  She could tell me goodnight every night and tell me to look at the moon because it is big and bright.  She could remind me that I am 10 feet tall and bullet proof and all I would have to do is make sure I paid the subscription every month.

But, here I am at 6:00 in the morning, planning my day.  I need to buy some fabric for an order of seed catchers, but Joann's does not open until 10 am.  I have an 11am lunch date and Jeopardy! comes on at 3:00 pm and that is my nap time.  The cat is asleep in my rocker, and the little dog I am taking care of for the next two weeks is asleep at my feet.  The clock just chimed 6 and I need to make another pot of coffee.  Life is good, but I may not be 10 feet tall today.  And I am pretty sure I am no longer bullet proof, but I do come from pioneer stock and that makes me a winner!

Which brings to mind this song!  https://youtu.be/QyTcYacSo7g

And the music goes on.

I remember the place I was standing when I learned that Hank Williams had died in the back seat of his car on the way to appear in a show, probably at the Grand Ole Opry.  A block over from our house on Strong Street was the highway.  There was one block of sidewalk that ran past the Fein house and on the corner there were steps that led from the highway up to the sidewalk.  There were hand rails on both sides and that was one of my places to "skin the cat" if you know what that is.  I was there and my brother came to tell me that Hank Williams had died.  I think I was about 14 years old.  He and I had listened to the Grand Ole Opry forever on his car radio that was hooked up to a battery.  Hank left his wife Audrey and a son, Hank Williams, Jr.

I do not remember the year, but it seems like it must have been 1955.  I could Google it, but the date is not important.  What was and still is important are the many Saturday nights that Jake and I set in the moonlight with him fiddling with the knob on the radio and the thrill when the announcer (forgot his name) came on and announced the show, "And now from Nashville, Tennessee its The Grand Ole Opry!"  And the people at the Grand Ole Opry began to clap and cheer and it was just like we were there!  I knew someday when I grew up that I would go to Nashville and I would set in the front row and I would hear Hank Williams sing and I would love him my whole life!

Sadly, I never made it to Nashville, but I did love Hank Williams my whole life.  Even when I grew into my rock and roll stage and fell in love with Elvis Presley, I never forgot Hank Williams. I remember my first record player.  It only played 78 rpm's and it was scratchy.  That did not matter.  I could close my eyes and go back to when he was alive.  I only had one or two records then, but now I have every song he ever made.  One of them has his wife singing with him.  She is a caterwauler, if you know what that is.  But I listen to her and sing along, because she was his wife.

I remember how I waited for his son to grow up and take his place.  I also remember when Hank Williams, Jr. started singing.  What a let down that was.  Hank Williams was a skinny little drifter with a big hat and a guitar and here was this little pudgy kid who could not hold a candle to his father.  He tried, but it just did not happen and then he went rogue and sang and beat on his guitar like the rock and roll stars of that era.  I never made that leap.

I remembered my Hank Williams and to this day, I am his most devoted fan.  I listen to classic country.  The old song, by the old artists and nothing else.  I do have one Alan Jackson but it is hymns.  Garth Brooks grates on my soul and his music is akin to fingernails on a chalk board.  Apparently, though, it is just me, because they have enjoyed a lot of success.

I do not live my life around Hank, though. I have some Loretta Lynn and Conway Twitty.  Charlie Pride is the only concert I ever attended.  I just hauled all my good 33 1/3 records to my daughter in Longton, along with my turntable.  I wanted them to go somewhere that they would be played and enjoyed.  

A lot of time has passed since my brother and I listened to the Grand Ole Opry, but I still hear it in my head.  If I lose all my senses at some point in time, I expect fully to still hear the staticky music in my head from Nashville, Tennessee and I am pretty sure when I take my last breathe that I will be met on the other side by Hank Williams, Patsy Cline a whole slew of others and maybe they will let me walk across the floor of the Ryman Auditorium.  Maybe they will even let me grab the microphone and wail out my version of "Your Cheatin' Heart."

It is a dream worth holding on to!

Well, pour more water in the radiator.

Back when I was knee high to a grasshopper and before I went to live with the grandma's, it was customary to go visit them in Plevna at least once a month.  This entailed Sunday dinner (noon meal) with Aunt Lola and Uncle Alvin.  At this point I need to explain about the family car.  The only time this car was used was when we went somewhere far away.  Plevna was 24 miles and that was considered far.  The other place it went was Hutchinson, where my half brother Earl and his family lived.

I do not know what kind of car it was, only that it was black.  I am going to say it was either a Chevrolet or a Chrysler and I have nothing concrete in my little head to make me say that, but I think that is right.  So we would load up in the family car early in the morning, because it was a 2 hour drive.  I know that sounds excessive, but you need to understand some things.  First there were 2 adults and 6 kids in this car.  Potty breaks were frequent because no 2 of us ever needed to pee at the same time.  So any time dad would see a clump of weeds he would pull over and somebody would jump out and use the cover to "Squat behind".  

If the potty breaks were not a bother, the need to add water to the radiator was also a necessity.  The need to add water to the radiator, and leave water from an extended bladder never occurred simultaneously.  I am not sure why the radiator did not hold water, but one thing is sure, it did not.  There was often talk of "getting that radiator fixed", but it never seemed to happen.  Seems it was cheaper to just pick up "another cheap car" then fix the one we had.  You know, to this day I can not read the "Grapes of Wrath" without picturing the Joad family as being the Bartholomew family.

Now that is another thing.  Back in those days, the spelling of last names was really not too important.  The census taker came to the door with a piece of paper and all of the members of our household were written out in long hand by the person doing that job.  Consequently, when I check the census to find info, Bartholomew is spelled Bartholomeu, and Rueben appears as Rubin, so I am not sure who my father was.

But back to the car business.  I had an uncle who was very rich and owned a car way back when I was on the Stroh place.  It had a crank in the front and that was the starter.  It took 2 people to start it.  As I recall, it had a "rumble seat" which really served very little purpose at all except that it only carried 2 people and the rumble seat was what passed later for a trunk, except that a person could set on it if need of it was required.  And, just so you know, back in those days, upholstery on the seats was actual cloth.  And you had your choice of colors, black and later they added white and army green.  We could set by the road and know what kind of car it was by the sound of the motor.  Now you can not even hear them!

I do not know how I learned to drive nor when, only that at some point I did.  I do know that an automatic transmission was pretty much a luxury and needed to be ordered if you wanted one.  Learning to shift a standard transmission using a clutch was pretty much the hardest part of learning to drive.  When you learned that it was just a matter of keeping it on your side of the road.  Oh, and the brakes were another matter.  You had to be aware at all times of the possibility of the brake fluid leaking out a pinhole in the cylinder and when you pushed on the pedal it just went to the floor and at that point you better be able to "gear down" and stop.  Damn!  I sure miss those days!

I still drive a "stick shift", but that is just because that is what this Honda had when I bought it. I take it in for an oil change when the wrench light comes on and that is about all the little thing needs.  I have no idea where I was going with this when I started out, but I hope I covered whatever it was that I wanted to share with you.

This old age is a real challenge sometimes!  I used to have a bumper sticker that covered it.  It said,

Of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most! 

Is this normal? If so, I am out of here!

Dayton, Ohio or El Paso, Texas.  Either one is just another town and more senseless violence.  Where has my world gone?  We are going to have active shooter training at our church.  Our innocent children are wearing bullet proof back packs to school.  This is the new normal.  Where are the days of sand and shovels?  They are no more.  We are living in a new reality where we are all of us just a bullet away from eternity.  Why?  I make no claim that I have any answers and neither do you.

Many years ago our forefathers started this country and gave us the right to keep and bear arms.  The constitution calls for a well regulated militia.  The National Rifle Association is one of the biggest if not the biggest contributor to the coffers of men and women running for Congress.  They ask so little in return; only that the person they are supporting vote for laws that are in their best interest and their best interest is to sell lots and lots of guns for lots and lots of money.  And I do love that pat answer they give when I ask why these nuts need a gun.  They say,  "The only way to stop a crazy with a gun is a good guy with a gun."  Just how often does that happen?  I know, not very often.

It seems like some guy walking into a Walmart or wherever with an AK 47 is no cause for alarm.  I am sorry, but I do not know why they are allowed to do this over and over and over and no one stops to question why these nuts are allowed to legally purchase a gun and enough ammunition to fight a small war.

I do not give a big rats ass why someone wants to kill people they have never met.  I am sure that as I lay bleeding out from holes all over my body my last thought will not be "Gee, I wonder why he did that?  He must be a very troubled youth."  No, my last thought is going to be why in the hell I could not have a government that made any kind of an effort to regulate gun control.  Russia put a lunatic in our highest position of power and gave him a twitter account to spew his hate and venom and absolutely no one seems to give a damn except me.  This is being accepted as the new normal.  I feel like Rip Van Winkle when I listen to the news at night and death, hate, destruction is acceptable.  And this is all done by morons in Washington who claim that they are Christians.  I beg to differ with these men and women who I think are the anti-Christ.

My God is a God of love.  A God of compassion.  A God of healing.  He is not at God who locks people in cages because they want to escape tyrants that are killing them, raping the women and selling the children.  My God frowns on anyone that turns their back on that kind of behavior.  I hate the fact that I am too damned old to stand in front of the world and take all those people in my arms and bring them safely to an America that used to be.  My America is gone.  It will never return.  Climate control is out the window and Global warming in now a reality and I want to thank all the people that stand behind Donald Trump and call him a leader because it is on your head that our America is the laughing stock of every country on earth.

And all of you people who will call me a lunatic for this posting just know that I will be keeping the door open and I will do my best to protect you when you realize that you have shit in your nest.

Russia? oh, shit.

Entry	Pageviews
Netherlands	101
United States	30
Canada	25
Russia	17
France	4
United Kingdom	4
Austria	2
Moldova	2
Nigeria	2
New Zealand	2

These are the readers I have who follow my blog and the countries they come from.  I know the 2 guys in New Zealand (Hi to Len and Willy), and I know a couple in Canada, but the fact that the Netherlands is my biggest following rather surprises me.  And the fact that 17 people in Russia read my blog blows me away.  I understand the 30 in the United States because my family is that big, but to know that I am read worldwide blows me away.

Well, I am sure there is a logical explanation for this, but I do not want to dig too deep into the workings of the world wide web for fear of finding out more than I really want to know.


Just sayin'.

Copied from Sangre de Cristo at some point.

Not real sure where I copied this from, but I do know I was with Hospice at the time, so pretty sure that is where it comes from.  The point is that it hits the nail right on the head.  I have lost a lot of dear friends, family, acquaintances, pets, a few enemies and the list goes on and on, in my life as I am sure it does in yours.  

I recall an advertisement on television where an older woman is in the bathroom preparing for bed and she is talking to someone, I assume was her husband, off camera.  She lays down her hairbrush and turns out the light and the camera pans to an empty bed.  I did not understand that as much then as when it happened to me.  The realization came to me just a few days after my husband passed.  I was devastated, but then life does go on.  There is no do overs when death comes knocking, but we are given no choice but to go on putting one foot in front of the other and living one day after another.  

It does become bearable after a time, but the one we lost will never be replaced.  I think about my mother every day.  I miss Shirley.  I miss my sisters and my brother and all the aunts and uncles.  The first actual death I recall was my calf, Dennis.  Then it was my nephew that was born at home.  Then it was grandma Haas.  I am sure there were others before, and I can not remember all that have gone since and still continue the march to the grave.  But this gives me solace.  This and the one about the departed being a ship sailing off across the ocean.  It is leaving the shore where people are weeping and it grows smaller and smaller until it is gone, but on the other side of the ocean, it is arriving and the people are cheering as it draws nearer!  

I do hope something I have written today in my own rambling little way gives someone an ounce of peace and acceptance.  And some day, when I make that journey, and you learn of my passing, know that I am happy and think of me with just a touch of sadness and a whole lot of joy!

Until then, may the peace that passes all understanding be with you all.

And now she is no more.

She was there and I planned on going to see her yesterday, but then I decided it would be tomorrow.  Tomorrow is now here and it is called today.  And now she is no more.  It is strange how this death thing works.  Some people hang on and linger and put it off and wait for another day.  Just one more day.  Just another hour, or another year or another anniversary.  Or not.  I do not know which is better, but I think she did it just right.

Many times in my hospice days I had set by a persons bedside for hours, or weeks or months, waiting for the Angel of Death.  And when it happened, after what ever period of time, and even then we were not ready.  It was too soon.  The family needed just one more day.  One more hour.  One more minute.  But that was not to be.

What did I learn from my hospice training?  I learned not to put it off until tomorrow.  Tomorrow may be too late.  5 minutes from now may be too late.  And yet I still procrastinate.  I have projects in various stages of having been abandoned for something I found more intriguing.  Another brass ring in this thing called life.  And it is called life for a reason.  It is meant to be lived.  It is meant to be lived now and in this moment, because there is no tomorrow.  Tomorrow never comes.

A friend just called and invited me to lunch and since I have not seen her in a while, I am dropping every thing and going.  This may very well be a tomorrow that came and I did not see it.